Jonten the Wanderer
by brentmacwolf
Summary: A story of a mouse warrior that comes to Redwall Abbey after his colony is murdered by Fleshfang the Murderer. Set after the events of Mattimeo. Note, some of the characters are off because I didn't have the book Mattemeo on hand when I wrote this.


Jonten the Wanderer: A Tale of Redwall A Redwall fan fiction by: silverbalto 

Book One: Fleshfang the Murderer

The sun started to set below the horizon, shining its golden rays upon the red sandstone blocks of Redwall Abbey. An old mouse, the Abbot of Redwall, sat on his rock near the pond, watching the sunlight dance across the glass surface. The rays reflected off his spectacles; his favourite pair framed in dried tree vines from Mossflower Woods. His old wrinkling and quivering paw clutched a carved cane, and a silver beard flowed like a river down over his chin and stretched to his waist. On his hunched back sat a scabbard and sword of a warrior. Suddenly, a small mousemaid – no more than three seasons old – ran up and replied, ''fatha Abbot, why you not in bed?''

The Abbot chuckled.

''Well, you see young one, old fellows like me enjoy sitting by the pond and remember the good times.'' He answered. The mousemaid smiled and asked her elder, ''can you tell me a storwy?''

The Abbot held his chin and nodded.

''I guess it wouldn't hurt. But once the moon is up, we are both heading to bed. Deal?''

''Deel.'' The mousemaid agreed and jumped onto Father Abbot's knee, listening intently as the old mouse told his story.

Jonten was born in a small mouse colony in the Southlands. He lived a happy life, until the colony was completely wiped out by a crew of pirates. Jonten, along with other little mouselings were captured and brought aboard the ship and locked in the hold. One of Jonten's friends, Timothy, shivered in fear. Jonten placed his paw on his friend's shoulder.

''Chin up matey,'' he said, ''we'll be outta here in no-time!''

That was many seasons ago.

Now Jonten is in his mid-youth, and he is forced to do labour aboard the filthy pirate ship, captained by a tyrant. Many of Jonten's friends had perished at the paws of Fleshfang the Murderer; the most ruthless and deadly pirate in all of the South Seas. His immense strength coupled with his low patience level to create a force none but a fool would challenge. The heads of all of Fleshfang's victims adorned the ship, and Jonten was forced to look at the heads of his friends, rotting away in the warm sea air.

''Come on, yew weakling,'' members of Fleshfang's crew would yell as Jonten dragged swabbed the decks and did other assorted jobs, ''don't make me tell Lord Fleshfang!''

Jonten would always answer with a scowl and dangerous glare at the rat, or stoat, or whoever said it.

Finally, one day, Jonten had had enough. A stoat was whipping him with a rope, yelling curses as his hapless victim. Jonten timed his attack and stopped, dropping what he was carrying. The stoat barred his teeth and shouted, ''hey, pick tha' up!''

Jonten gave a short chuckle, mocking his superior.

''Why not pick it up yourself snot-nose?'' he said calmly. The stoat swung his rope back and threw it forward. Jonten lifted his arm, flinching as the rope stung it. The rope wrapped around Jonten's arm, and after he gave a short tug, the rope was in his paws. The stoat's eyes went wide and he coward on the ground.

''Please, don't hurt me!'' he pleaded. Jonten gave a low growl.

''Why shouldn't I,'' he questioned, ''you were going to hurt me. I think it's time to for just desserts.''

Jonten grabbed the stoat and lifted him off his footpaws. The stoat struggled to get free, but it was to no avail. Jonten gave a mighty swing and released his enemy, sending his body sprawling into the mast, and snapping his neck in the process. A flood of vermin came over and tackled Jonten to the ground, pinning him to the deck. Fleshfang came out of his cabin to see what had happened. The colossal figure was a sight to behold. Fleshfang was a fox; and he wore a cloak dyed in the blood of his victims. His gloves were gold and had curved spikes running up the top and bottom of the wristbands. Finally, Fleshfang wore a red scabbard that held a doubled-bladed sword. The big boss crossed his arms and glared at Jonten as he was pinned on the deck, then at the limp body of the stoat the slave had killed. Fleshfang shook his head.

''Think you're a warrior, don't you?'' he asked. Jonten growled and roared, ''I _am_ a warrior! And I possess more honour and skill than you'll ever have!''

Fleshfang walked up lifted Jonten's head up, spitting in his eye.

''Never talk to me like that, ''he ordered, ''you will pay for that mouse! Lock him in the hold without any food or water. And then we'll make him unload all of our provisions tomorrow.''

Fleshfang then turned, walking triumphantly back to his cabin.

''We'll see how much of a warrior he is when I'm done with him.''

The next morning, Jonten was dragged from his bed and thrown on deck, still half-asleep and hungry. Fleshfang stood in the shadow of the sun, silhouetted by the hot midday light.

''Get him ready to start loading.'' He ordered. Two thugs grabbed Jonten and pushed his roughly toward the gangplank. Another smaller ship sailed up and docked beside the pirate ship. Fleshfang brandished his sword, pointing it at Jonten as he walked across the small plank between the ships. Jonten was about to grab the first load, when he smiled and ran to the opposite side of the ship, diving off the edge with a piece of wood in hand. Fleshfang shouted out orders and got his archers ready to fire. The piece of wood appeared, but there was no one on it. Fleshfang clutched his blade and ran a rat through in rage. Sheathing his blade, Fleshfang looked at the wood as it drifted out of sight.

''I want look-outs posted and archers ready to fire; that mouse is _not_ getting away,'' he then looked over to the corpse of one of his crew, ''and deal with this eye-sore, will you!''

Jonten washed up on the sandy beach near the Caves of the South Cliffs. He crawled out of the surf and onto the warm sand. Flipping onto his back, the weather-beaten mouse was barely conscious. In the distance loomed the fuzzy image of a giant mountain, but other than that, there was nothing recognizable in the area. Jonten struggled to get onto his knees and crawled slowly toward a cave, knowing that Fleshfang wouldn't let any person – slave or crewmember – leave his ship. Jonten finally managed to pull himself into the rocky shelter and shut his eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

The next morning came amid hazy skies and rain. The dry sand was speckled with small dots as the heavens opened up in a torrential rainfall. Jonten sat up in his dry cave and sighed.

''Great,'' he muttered, ''now it'll take me _more_ time to get to a hideout.''

On the horizon, Jonten saw a small object. He didn't need a second look to tell him it was Fleshfang's ship heading right for him. They were another three hours or so away, but he wasn't sure how dense the forest was. With nothing to lose, Jonten bolted from the cave and into the wet forest, still with the ship in view.

Jonten wasn't sure how long he had been running in the rain, but all he knew was that if he stopped, Fleshfang and his army could capture him. So he kept going, ignoring exhaustion as he jumped over fallen trees and ducked under low branches. Jonten thought he was home-free, until he tripped over an object on the ground. He landed face-first on the ground, covering his face in a thin layer of mud. Jonten sat up and grabbed the object he had tripped on. It was a sword and scabbard; both black. The blade of the sword was long and forbidding, and the hilt had a small red jewel in it. The grip was black and also had another jewel on the bottom. Shouldering the scabbard, Jonten continued to run, unaware of the storm's increase in ferocity.

The wind came up out of nowhere, throwing Jonten onto his back. The sky became navy blue, covering the entire forest in a vial of shadow. The thunder boomed overhead, and the sky was lit up periodically with bolts of lightning as they snaked their way through the air, disappeared as quick as they appeared. Jonten continued to run, only to arrive at a large river; its waters rushing by at break-neck speed. Jonten heard rustling in the bushes. Whirling around, Jonten came face to face with a pack of six vermin; the leader being a fox. They were obviously a branch of Fleshfang's massive operations around Mossflower and other areas. The fox smiled and said, ''we got word there was an escaped slave in this wood. And boy will Fleshfang be happy when we bring you back to him.''

Jonten placed his paw on the grip of the sword he had found. He didn't know why, but it felt comfortable in his paws; as if he had wielded it for years. The leader and his band pulled out their weapons; a jumble of axes, scimitars, rapiers and a battle sword. The leader chuckled as Jonten kept his paws on the sheathed blade.

''What's the matter worm, you too scared,'' he yelled jokingly, ''c'mon boys, let's get 'im!''

The mob charged at Jonten, who stood his ground. Unsheathing the sword, he swung the hefty blade expertly in the air, making the metal sing as it whirled around. One of the rats in the troupe was be-headed instantly from the sword's momentum. The rest stood back in awe at the sheer power of the sword. Jonten stopped twirling the blade and let the tip fall to earth. The remaining five members of the Fleshfang troupe stared sat Jonten as he smiled and said, ''come get some!''

The fox stood back and ordered three rats to charge. Jonten clutched his sword and stabbed forward, running the first rat through like butter. Pulling the sword out, Jonten quickly made swing at a goofy angle, slaying the other two rats just as easily. Two rats and the fox leader remained. This time however, Jonten didn't wait for his enemy to come to him. Holding his sword with both paws, Jonten went into an _all-or-nothing _charge. The fox and his two rats ran for their lives, but Jonten was faster. With one mighty swing, he eliminated the two rats and cut a thick gash into the fox's back. He whirled around, eyes blazing. He charged at Jonten and swung his sword upwards into a downward slash. Jonten threw up his sword to defend.

The forest echoed with the sound of metal connecting. Jonten was thrown backward and landed near the river. The fox was closing in fast; he had to make a tough decision. Stabbing forward, Jonten then sheathed the sword and, after taking a few deep breaths, jumped into the river. The fox toppled sideways onto the earth, his sword landing, still clutched by its master.

The river threw Jonten about like a piece of driftwood in the sea. Everything was good until a rock came up and got into the path of his head. He knocked against the slab and went unconscious. His limp body drifted down the rough river toward the sea.

Jonten opened his eyes slowly. He was on land, though his senses were still groggy and partly handicapped. All around him, Jonten could hear muffled voices arguing.

''I say we kill him! He's no good to us!''

''Flambert, you should talk! You'd be dead by now if that's how the Guosim thought!''

''You want to stop this you two! He's waking up!''

Jonten sat up slowly and looked around him. Crowding around him were shrews, all in different coloured tunics.

''Where am I?'' Jonten said. The leader of the shrews, a muscular one with a green tunic, walked up and answered, ''you are in Guosim country my friend.''

''Guosim?''

''Yes, the _Guerilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower_. And I am their leader, Log-a-Log Raglef.''

Jonten stood up, showing the sheer size comparison between himself and the Guosim. Log-a-Log was impressed immensely.

''You are bigger and stronger than any mouse I have ever seen before,'' Log-a-Log then realised that he had not been properly introduced.

''Oh, I never got your name mouse.'' He noted. Jonten smiled and shook Log-A-Log's paw.

''My name's Jonten. I'm from the Southlands. I was captured by a tyrant and forced to do laboured work. That is why you found me in the river; I was escaping one of his branches of armies.''

Log-a-Log snapped his fingers and said, ''well, my friend. As the Guosim rules state, all guests must be given shelter and food for the night. You will be safe with us, Jonten.''

Jonten bowed.

''Thank you Log-a-Log,'' he replied.

Later that night, except for a few guards, only Log-a-Log and Jonten remained by the fire that had been started for dinner. Jonten looked over at the shrew leader and asked, ''Log-a-Log, can I ask you something?''

He looked over.

''Of course you can Jonten.'' He answered. Jonten took the scabbard and sword he had found off his shoulder and threw it to Log-a-Log.

''Do you know who this belongs to?'' he questioned.

Log-a-Log pulled the sword from the scabbard and sat there in silence.

''Where did you find this?'' he asked in a serious tone. Jonten told him the story.

''Ah, I see,'' Log-a-Log said, ''you tripped over this blade in the woods upstream. Those vermin must have taken it while we were fishing.''

Jonten blinked in confusion.

''Does it belong to you Log-a-Log?''

The shrew leader nodded.

''This sword is a ceremonial blade passed down between all shrew leaders. We had all thought it was lost. But now that it has been returned, and we are thankful to you. Now you get some rest. You have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow.''

Jonten stood up and stretched, yawning as he crawled into his tent and fell fast asleep.

The next morning,

Jonten was awakened by a scream from somewhere in the distance. Log-a-Log and his shrews had heard it too, and a voice yelled out, ''it's Aussa! She's been thrown in the river!''

Jonten and Log-a-Log raced to the shoreline and watched as a female shrew whipped by them at an ever increasing velocity. Jonten looked on the opposite bank and saw Fleshfang sneaking away from the scene. Jonten knew that even if he wanted to give chase, he had to save Aussa; regardless of whether he will get another chance at Fleshfang or not. Taking a deep breath, Jonten bolted down the bank and saw a fork in the river. Aussa was pulled down the left bank by the strangely rapid current, and Jonten knew exactly what was next. He had heard a waterfall during the night, and he knew well enough that a fast current like the one Aussa was caught in normally and almost always led to a waterfall.

Aussa approached the edge of the waterfall and screamed as she plummeted over the threshold. But out of the blue, she stopped her descent. Aussa looked up and saw a mouse clutching her paw and smiling.

''Sorry about the delay ma'am,'' he replied, ''but I'm a deep sleeper.''

Back at the shrew camp, Log-a-Log hugged Aussa tightly and cried, ''my daughter! My precious daughter! You're safe now!''

Log-a-Log then addressed Jonten proudly.

''Jonten, you showed bravery and intelligence back at the falls, and I wish to thank you by giving you the Guosim sword that you found for me.''

Jonten was presented with the blade as he bowed before the shrew leader.

''Thank you Log-a-Log,'' he answered, ''I will treasure it as long as I live.''

Log-a-Log smiled.

''And my daughter will accompany you on your journey to wherever you are headed.'' He finished. Aussa grabbed her shrew rapier and rose it into the air, yelling, ''all hail Log-a-Log! Logalogaloalogalogalog!''

The Guosim joined in on their battle cry as Jonten watched, impressed and stunned at the shrews' loyalty and gratitude to his heroic deed.

After a few good-byes, Jonten and Aussa departed from the Guosim camp and headed along the riverbank in search of shelter for the night. The two soon came across a cave smack-dab in the middle of Mossflower Woods. Slipping inside, Aussa built a fire and started dinner while Jonten explored the almost beast-made tunnels that lead deep into the earth. Finally, he arrived at a flat rock that sounded hollow when he stepped on it. Jumping up, Jonten smashed through the roof of an old room and landed on top of a pile of debris.

In front of him was a very deep pool with an island of land in the centre. On that island sat a circular shield; its steel brooding in the torch-lit room. Jonten stood up and waded into the pool, swimming toward the island. Upon reaching it, Jonten saw a yellowed scroll sitting in front of the shield. He opened it and read the letter out loud;

He who wishes to possess this shield,

Take heed, this is no game.

Only one can wield it correct,

Netnoj is his name.

''Netnoj,'' Jonten questioned, ''what kind of name of that?''

But something told him to grab the shield. It wasn't his intuition, but something else. With nothing to lose, Jonten grabbed the shield's grip and felt a magical power course from the shield and through his veins. The shield seemed to think he was its master; the warrior named Netnoj. Jonten gripped the shield tightly, amazed that the hefty metal object was balanced – with considerable accuracy for the strength and deflecting power of its wielder – for use by a mouse. Although he had been born in the Southlands, Jonten had heard tales of the badger Lords of Salamandastron mountain; a once active volcano that the Lords and Long Patrol occupy. Weapons constructed by the badger Lords are valued by all, yet only few have been able to get their paws on one.

Jonten climbed back into the main cave to see Aussa tapping her foot paw on the stone floor, arms crossed and annoyed.

''Where were you,'' she questioned, ''dinner's getting cold!''

Jonten laughed and sat down, showing his shrew friend the shield. Aussa's eyes scanned the unbroken metal surface as Jonten started on his butter scorn and shrew beer. Aussa turned back to their dinner and said, ''that is some piece of construction Jonten. Where'd you find it?''

Jonten pointed toward the end of the tunnel.

''I fell through the floor and landed in a giant room.''

Aussa stood up and inspected where Jonten was pointing.

''Jonten, I don't see any hole,'' she answered, ''now stop telling tales and eat up. We're going to be up early tomorrow to gain some time.''

Jonten sighed and finished his meal. Only moments after dousing the fire, destroying all remains in the cave and covering their tracks, both mouse and shrew were asleep. Only a few miles away from the cave, Fleshfang and his army were trying to find the escaped slave. Fleshfang – as to not give his soldiers any chases to run – watched atop a rock as his army searched everywhere. The darkness created a handicap for even the most experienced tracker. What was worse was that Fleshfang's patience was wearing thin.

''Anklebite, ''he yelled at one of his fox captain, ''get over here and report any findings.''

Anklebite, the youngest and least experienced of all the captains in the army, gave a funny salute and answered, ''sir, none of the soldiers have found anything as of yet. But we will look into the early morning if we have to...with your permission of course.''

Fleshfang smiled slightly. Anklebite had always been his favourite captain, and ever since he had joined, he had been learning quickly.

''Permission granted, ''Fleshfang said, ''now quit wasting time and find that slave! I wish to slay him in front of the others to prevent anyone else escaping!''

All the captains and soldiers searched harder, none wishing to feel their boss's wrath or blade.

The sun broke the night-time stillness and rose slowly into view. Aussa awoke and shook Jonten, who opened his eyes and yawned. The two grabbed all their remaining provisions and sneaked out of the cave and into the damp forest. They were only a mile or so from Anklebite's tracking party, who were heading in the opposite direction.

Aussa and Jonten had been walking for hours before they decided to stop for a rest. Sitting down on a log, Jonten munched on a leftover scorn. Suddenly, he saw a paw reaching out from behind him to snatch his snack. Jonten waited and elbowed the owner of the paw, whirling around and drawing his blade. Aussa unsheathed her rapier as well. The thief was a hare; a tall fellow who wore a dark-green shirt with gold trim and possessed a small gold chain that hung from the left side. He held up his paws and said, ''steady on there chaps. I'm not one of those villainous vermin.''

Jonten lowered his blade and asked, ''then who are you?''

The hare made a bow.

''My name is Rupert Xeaveor Pinegrove. By your chaps can call me jolly old Pinegrove. What do they call you two, hmm?''

''Jonten,'' Jonten answered, ''and my friend here is named Aussa.''

''Jolly good then,'' Pinegrove replied, ''what brings you two out in the woodlands, wot?''

Jonten explained his story and what had happened within the past two days. Pinegrove was intrigued with the story and said, ''absoballylutely the most villainous chap I've ever heard of, wot.''

Aussa nodded.

''I know. He threw me into the river and I almost went over the falls. Good thing Jonten was there.''

Jonten smiled, but inside his head, he though of something he hadn't bother to ask yet. Why had Fleshfang thrown Aussa in the river anyway? Did Fleshfang want him to save her? Was that his plan?

Jonten sighed and asked, ''Pinegrove, do you know where we can safely sleep? Continuing to hide in the forest will work only until we get careless. I think a fortress or building might be the best idea.''

Pinegrove ran through any suggestions he had in his head and came up with the perfect place.

''I know, how about jolly old Redwall Abbey? It's surrounded by a wall.''

Aussa agreed.

''I've heard of it through Guosim legend. Can you take us there?''

Pinegrove nodded his head.

''Course I can,'' he replied, ''but all I can do is take you to the path that leads to the Abbey. I only have enough food for that point. I'm short of nourishment, don'cha know?''

Jonten patted the hare on the back.

''That's fine Pinegrove,'' he answered for both himself and Aussa, ''when do we leave?''

Pinegrove bushed off his shirt and shrugged.

''Well, we can go now an' be there by dusk.''

That was all Jonten needed to hear.

''Then let's get going.'' He said. Pinegrove kicked his heels and replied, ''jolly good! We'd best be off then if we want to make it by dusk.''

Then with another kick of the heels, Pinegrove was off, followed by Aussa and Jonten.

As Pinegrove had predicted, the trio arrived near the dirt path that led to Redwall Abbey. A small stone sign with a crudely engraved Abbey on it pointed to the east. Jonten and Aussa crossed the ditch and clambered onto the path, waving goodbye to their friend Pinegrove as he yelled back, ''nice t'meet you chaps! Goodbye, wot!''

Book Two: Love Conquers All

Fleshfang sat in his quarters on his ship _Vengeance Bringer_ when a knock came on his door.

''It's open numbskull, '' Fleshfang growled, ''hurry up and get in here.''

One of his other captains, Grilltooth, walked in and saluted his boss.

''Sir, we have found the remains of captain Crushjaw and his platoon. He was slain by a very powerful blade sir, most likely the handiwork of a badger constructed weapon if I'm not mistaken.''

Fleshfang waved the news off. Crushjaw was next of his hit list anyway.

''And the escaped slave?'' he asked. Grilltooth shook his head.

''No sign of him yet sir. But we are still looking. We did, however, find the remains of a fire. The embers are still hot as well as the ash is fresh. It could be our slave, but we are still checking on it.''

This news cheered Fleshfang up. Finally, he had a lead on his escaped slave. But the news meant his soldiers had to search even harder than before. Fleshfang gave Grilltooth the permission to leave; watching as his fox captain obeyed. When the door shut tightly, Fleshfang grabbed his red scabbard and pulled out his sword. The torchlight from his cabin reflected off the jagged inside edges of his two blades, their sinister teeth ready to tear open its victims.

''Soon my precious,'' Fleshfang whispered to his sword, ''you'll get fresh meat soon enough.''

Jonten and Aussa had been walking down the path no more than an hour when Redwall's bells came into view. The two bells chimed their set tune in the still afternoon air. Soon the bell tower and the ramparts were seen by the two. Finally, the entire abbey revealed itself in all its splendour. The red sandstone walls were the first inclination why it was called _Redwall_, and there were mice patrolling atop the ramparts. Just then, a voice called out to Jonten and Aussa, stopping them in mid-step.

''Welcome to Redwall Abbey friends, ''the voice, belonging to a mouse, called out, ''wait where you are and I will send for our Abbot.''

Jonten and Aussa watched as the mouse disappeared from view. Only minutes later, the huge wooden abbey doors opened slowly, revealing the abbey courtyard. Two mice and a badger walked out to meet Jonten and Aussa. The badger wore a light-blue dress, trimmed with white lace. A small stone hung around her neck. The two mice wore brown habits, which hung down over their footpaws and sandals. The taller of the two – and obviously more important – possessed a pair of spectacles and a small white beard. The other mouse was younger and held a long spear in his right paw. The badger walked up and replied, ''I am Terra, Badgermum of Redwall Abbey. I wish to introduce you to our abbot.''

Mother Terra moved aside and let the older mouse walk up. He shook Jonten and Aussa's paws and said, ''Welcome to our Abbey friends, I am Abbot Saxtin.''

''My name's Jonten, ''Jonten did a small bow, ''and this is my Guosim friend Aussa.''

Aussa gave a curtsy and said nothing. Jonten smiled and continued.

''We wish to take up residence in your abbey,'' he requested, ''both Aussa and I fell unsafe in Mossflower.''

Abbot Saxtin smiled and led the two into Redwall Abbey. The second the wooden doors shut tightly, little Abbeydwellers bombarded Jonten and Aussa.

''Hay mista, ''one of them said, ''who a' you?''

Aussa was not good with kids, so Jonten handled them himself.

''I'm Jonten. What's your name young'n?''

The little mouselet swung his wooden sword and said, ''I Sandston, bwavist wawwior in all Mossf'ower! An' this is my cwew.''

Two moles, barring similar swords as Sandston, growled comically. They wrinkled their noses and said, ''Oi bee de worriur Delorf, hurr hurr.''

His twin brother nodded.

''Burr, an' oi be his bruther, Andrew!''

Finally, a small female otter kit walked up, swinging a toy sling.

''An' I be Anna the fierce! Beware my sling, matey!''

Jonten put up his paws and made an expression of fake terror.

''Oh please, you fearless hooligans, have mercy!''

Jonten then bolted off, followed closely by the four young would-be warriors, hooting and hollering as they swung their weapons madly as they ran.

Aussa watched and shook her head.

''That Jonten is something else.'' She said.

''I agree.'' Mother Terra replied, startling Aussa and making her jump in fear.

''I'm so sorry Aussa,'' Mother Terra apologised, ''I didn't mean to…''

Aussa put up her paw.

''That is quite alright Mother Terra,'' she assured her new friend, ''I'm fine.''

Mother Terra smiled and watched as Jonten tripped and the four Dubbins started lightly striking him with their swords.

''I think he will make an excellent addition to the abbey…that is, if he decides to stay.''

All the Abbeydwellers gathered in Great Hall, sitting at the long wooden tables and talking. Jonten and Aussa were led to their seats; right beside Father Abbot. The room went silent when he stood up to talk.

''Friends, it is my pleasure to welcome two individuals to Redwall Abbey. Aussa from the Guosim tribe and Jonten the Wanderer, a Southlander!''

The room went from eerie silence to a mass of welcomes and other things.

''Welcome to our abbey you two!''

''Burr aye, them be gudd frienders, hurr hurr!''

''I gorra chansh to pway wit' 'im!''

''Settle down,'' Mother Terra replied, quieting the room, ''you may continue Father Abbot.''

Saxtin smiled and said, ''Thank you Mother Terra. Now everyone, let us bow our heads and say grace for this meal we are about to eat.''

All bowed and repeated after the Abbot. Jonten and Aussa tried their best to mimic the rhyme.

The Abbey sits,

With Martin's grace,

Upon the spot,

Where he built this place,

We give thanks,

To all who helped,

To build our home,

We give thanks to them and all who enter our beloved Abbey.

As the prayer finished, all sorts of dishes were brought out. Jonten and Aussa's faces lit up. Never in their lives had they seen so much food. Jonten was used to living without much on Fleshfang's ship, and he hadn't had a decent meal for many seasons. Grabbing some red soup and taking a taste, he looked at Father Abbot and asked, ''what is this stuff? It's so delicious.''

The Abbot saw the soup and chuckled.

''What?'' Jonten questioned. Saxtin motioned for one of the mice to come over.

''Yes Father Abbot?'' he stood at attention. Saxtin leaned forward and whispered, ''get our friend here some October Ale. And please hurry; he's just tried otter hotroot soup for the first time.''

The mouse nodded and ran off to the cellars.

Just as he returned, Jonten felt a slight burning sensation in his mouth. Within seconds, the sensation had gone from a small sting to as if there was a raging inferno in his mouth. The mice put the keg of ale in front of Jonten, who downed it in a flash. The burning disappeared in his mouth and he settled back down.

''Whew,'' Jonten replied, ''tell the cook to go easy on the hotroot next time.''

The Great Hall erupted with laughter. Jonten too found it funny, and couldn't help but laugh as well. Father Abbot was laughing so hard, tears ran down his face.

''Oh…oh my, hahahaha, that was, hehehe, that was so funny, hahahaha!''

Soon the feast was over, and most of the residents of Redwall were in bed. Brother Nigel, a veteran mouse of the abbey, showed Jonten and Aussa to their rooms. First came the Infirmary.

''Unfortunately,'' he whispered, ''there is only one bed left.''

Jonten smiled.

''Ladies first.'' He said. Aussa smiled and gave Jonten a hug.

''Thanks Jonten. I'll see you in the morning.''

The Infirmary door closed and locked. Nigel shrugged and asked, ''where will you sleep?''

''Let me find a place Brother,'' Jonten answered, ''I'll just take a dip in the pond. Can you get a pillow and a few sheets and leave them by the door?''

Brother Nigel nodded.

''Of course I can,'' he said, ''just be sure to tell one of the patrol guards you came from inside the abbey.''

''I'll do that. Good-night Brother.''

Nigel smiled and watched Jonten head outside.

The night air was nippy and made Jonten shiver as he headed toward the staircase to the ramparts. Finding a guard, he whispered, ''Brother Nigel told me to tell you that I'm from inside the abbey.''

The guard nodded and said nothing.

Jonten wandered over to a large tree near the pond and stripped down, wadding into the water. Sitting on the bottom, Jonten relaxed and smiled. The moonlight rippled on the surface of the pond and the fireflies bustled about, blinking on and off randomly. Suddenly, Jonten heard something behind him. Turning slowly, he saw a mousemaid holding a folded green habit, black sandals and a dry towel. Jonten jumped back in surprise and splashed down into the deeper part of the pond. The mousemaid giggled and replied, ''thought you needed something warm tonight.''

Jonten accepted the towel and wrapped it around himself.

''Thanks Miss…ummm…''

The mousemaid smiled.

''Willow is my name. And you must be Jonten. I've heard so much about you from Mother Terra and Father Abbot. Mother Terra said you actually let the Dubbins chase you around and attack you on purpose.''

Jonten shrugged.

''Hey, I like kids.'' He said and walked behind the tree, putting on the habit and sandals Willow had brought. When he emerged, Jonten looked like he had been born in Redwall; he fit in almost freakishly.

''Well, how do I look?'' Jonten asked. Willow giggled.

''Like a Redwaller Jonten, like a Redwaller.''

Jonten then asked, ''you want to go for a stroll around the abbey grounds? I'd love to see what there is to see.''

Willow smiled and took Jonten's paw. The two walked away from the pond, leaving Jonten's old tattered clothes behind.

''So _this_ is what Redwall Abbey's all about, eh?'' Jonten gasped as he and Willow treaded lightly over the grass. Willow nodded.

''Not just the structure, but the history,'' she noted, ''My great-grandfather Matthias was the one who made the Abbey gain so much confidence during battle. Before that incident, Redwall did fight back, but their peace always shadowed their enemies' strength.''

Jonten did a double take.

''Willow, did you just say that Matthias is your great-grandfather?'' he asked. Willow was confused.

''Yes I did,'' she said, ''why do you ask?''

''Matthias is my idol back home,'' Jonten answered ecstatically, ''I had heard stories of his heroic deeds; how he slain Asmodaus, and killed Cluny the Scourge and Slagar! I wish I could meet him.''

Willow smiled.

''Well, you're too late to see great-grandpa Matthias; he's been dead from many seasons now. Even grandfather Mattimeo has passed on recently. Only my father, Martin, remains. Grandfather named father after the founder of this abbey and our first great hero.''

Jonten's jaw hung down.

''Martin the Warrior mouse; son of Luke. It's not possible.'' He gasped.

''You seem to know a lot about our heroes Jonten,'' Willow remarked, ''why is that?''

Jonten blushed.

''Well, I'd always wanted to be a warrior myself. That is, before I was captured.''

Willow put her paws over her mouth.

''Captured? By who?''

''Fleshfang the Murderer,'' Jonten answered, ''he's a blood-thirsty tyrant that kills on a whim, and who doesn't regret it. He's been trying to catch me, and he almost killed my friend Aussa.''

Willow was shocked.

''And this villain is searching for you? What if he attacks the abbey?''

''Don't worry Willow, ''Jonten said, ''as long as my friend Pinegrove doesn't blab, this abbey'll be fine.''

Willow calmed down and rested her head on Jonten's shoulder as they walked toward the entrance to the abbey.

''I enjoyed that stroll.'' She replied. Jonten smiled.

''So did I.'' He said softly.

Jonten had seen Willow to bed and walked down the abbey stairs toward the Great Hall. He figured it was the best place as any to get some sleep. Throwing down his pillow, scabbard and shield, Jonten laid down on the stone floor; right below the Redwall tapestry and the image of Martin the Warrior.

Hours passed before Jonten was woken up.

''Jonten.'' A deep voice called. Jonten sat up quickly and looked around. No one was there.

''Who's there,'' he asked, ''speak!''

''Jonten!'' the voice thundered. Jonten looked up at the tapestry. The image of Martin was staring him back in the face.

''Ma…ma…ma…Martin?'' Jonten stuttered. The image nodded.

''Jonten, my abbey is in danger. My home is being attacked by…''

The image was shattered by a two-bladed sword. Fleshfang laughed and swung downward…

Jonten awoke in a cold sweat.

Staring up at the image of Martin, he shook his head and retorted, ''it was just a dream. But it must mean something.''

Jonten stood up and placed his paw against the tapestry, right on Martin's sword. He looked into the eyes of the warrior mouse and said, ''I am that is. My sword shall wield for me. Well Martin, I hope you are right in this dream. Because if you aren't, it'll be both our hides.''

The sun rose lazily over the horizon, shining rays of light into the abbey and surrounding Mossflower. Jonten felt something land on him and opened his eyes. Sandston sat on his stomach, staring at him with wide eyes. Jonten sat up, making Sandston slide down onto the floor.

''Sandston,'' Jonten murmured, yawning twice during the sentence, ''what're you doing up so early?''

Sandston pointed to a window and said, ''if bean morneeng fowr a wong time naow mista Jon'en.''

Jonten looked outside and chuckled.

''Well, right you are.''

Sandston brought out his wooden sword and swung it around wildly.

''Today I gorra bea wawwior wif my gwoop.'' He replied.

Jonten grabbed the wooden sword as it came flying by.

''That's not how you swing a sword Sandston,'' he said, handing the toy back to his Dubbin friend, ''tell you what. If you behave yourself at breakfast, I'll teach you how to wield a sword like a true warrior. Would you like that?''

Sandston jumped up and down with excitement.

''I gorra tewl da oders!''

Jonten shook his head.

''No Sandston, you cannot. This is just between you and me. Between best buddies.''

Sandston stared at the giant mouse.

''You mi fwiend mista Jon'en?''

''Bestest best friend in the world Sandston.'' Jonten corrected. Sandston walked up and hugged Jonten's leg.

''Yowr mi fwiend tu mista Jon'en.'' He said. Jonten patted the little Dubbin on the head and pointed down the hall, ''now off to breakfast with you. And tell them to save me some. Oh, and make me a sword as well. I have something to do.''

Sandston nodded and hurried off. Jonten turned to the picture of Martin and smiled.

''Well Martin, don't you think he'll make a mighty _wawwior_?''

The Great Hall was filled with the laughter of the mouse warrior. Jonten smiled again and left for the dinning hall.

Jonten arrived just as the dinning hall was packed. He sighed and grabbed his breakfast of a honey-butter scorn, and dandelion cordial. Sitting down in the corner, Jonten nibbled on his breakfast and watched the rest of the Redwallers eating and talking. Jonten turned and saw Willow sitting beside him with her breakfast.

''I saw you were lonely, so I came over.''

Jonten blushed and said, ''it wasn't necessary Willow, I…''

Brother Nigel came in, and Jonten stopped talking to show his respect.

''Attention all new Redwallers, please follow me to the Infirmary and you will learn the rules of the Abbey.''

Jonten set down his breakfast and followed the crowd of a dozen animals as the headed for the Infirmary. When the door opened, Mother Terra was standing in front of the room. Brother Nigel pointed to the chair that had been set up and instructed the new Redwallers to sit. All the chairs were filled instantly. Brother Nigel started pacing in front of the crowd, all eyes watching him as he started.

''Today, Mother Terra and I are going to teach you the rules of our Abbey so you will enjoy yourselves during your stay. Rule One: all habits must be worn on Abbey property and cleaned every day. This is for respect to our Abbey and your fellow inhabitants. Rule Two: Show respect to all your superiors, such as myself, the Abbot, the other Brothers and Sisters of Redwall and especially Mother Terra.''

A hedgehog leaned over to Jonten and whispered, ''Yeah, that's cause I heard she'll tan your hide so hard that it'll feel like it was knocked off.''

Another new resident, a mole, shook his head.

''Oi herds that Muther Tarra haings yew own hooks an' leevs yew on 'em, burr aye.''

''No, I heard she'd throw you in the pond with your clothes on.''

Mother Terra had heard them and smiled.

''Shall I prove your suspicions?'' she asked. All the new residents went quiet.

Brother Nigel chuckled and continued.

''Finally, please respect the abbey, its tapestry and our resident spirit of Martin the Warrior. By disrespecting him, you will be disrespecting all who reside in it and will be asked to leave.''

The entire group nodded and stood up, escorted out by Mother Terra. Brother Nigel put his paw on Jonten's shoulder and said, ''Jonten, I need to speak with you.''

Jonten followed Nigel into the Infirmary and sat down on a chair. Nigel was quick and to-the-point.

''Jonten, I have heard that you are offering to teach Sandston to wield a sword like a real warrior. Is that correct?''

Jonten bowed his head down.

''Yes Brother, that's right,'' he peeped, ''am I in trouble?''

''Don't bet silly Jonten, you aren't in trouble,'' Brother Nigel smiled, surprising Jonten, ''I just wanted to commend you for being such a good friend to Sandston. After his parents were killed, he had no-one to turn to. He hasn't had a parental figure like you before; it will really help him forget his past.''

Jonten was unaware of this.

''His _past_?'' he questioned. Brother Nigel nodded solemnly.

''You see Jonten, the Dubbins are all abandoned babies that we raise in our Abbey. Sandston was left without a family when a vicious fox in a red cape came and cut down his parents.''

A fox in a red cape? Viciously cut down?

''Fleshfang!'' Jonten exclaimed. Brother Nigel blinked.

''Who?'' he asked. Jonten realised he had said that aloud and replied, ''oh, nothing Brother. I have to go; Sandston's waiting for me.''

Jonten ran from the room and outside, leaving Brother Nigel wondering what was wrong.

Pinegrove walked down the dirt path, going in the opposite direction of Redwall. He was mumbling to himself as Fleshfang eyed him from the cover of Mossflower wood.

''Those two bally chaps. That mouse…he tells taller tales than I do wot? Sayin' he was a jolly old slave to some slimy two-faced fox!''

Fleshfang jumped out of his cover and tackled Pinegrove onto the ground, pulling out his blade at the same time. Holding the blade close to Pinegrove's neck, Fleshfang spoken quietly.

''A mouse you say? Two-faced and slimy, am I? Care to tell me anything else before I slit your throat.'' He threatened. Pinegrove refused to talk.

''Well then,'' Fleshfang said, ''I guess we'll just have to kill you.''

Pinegrove watched as the blade slipped across his throat, and blood started to drain out. Fleshfang stood above the hare as he collapsed onto all fours.

''Last chance hare. Tell me what I want to know, or you die.''

Pinegrove nodded his head and said weakly, ''help me first.''

Fleshfang motioned for two rats to hurry over and bandaged up Pinegrove's neck. He could breath again, but not as well as before.

''Fine you blaggard,'' Pinegrove yelled, ''I helped Jonten down the path.''

Fleshfang smiled.

''That's all I wanted to know,'' he turned to his rats, ''lock him in the cart. He'll be a useful servant when I invade Redwall Abbey.''

The rats grabbed the injured hare and threw him into their cart, locking the iron door behind him. Fleshfang stared forward and said, ''Anklebite, tell the other captains to get their armies ready. I want to be able to attack tonight.''

Outside on the abbey grounds, Sandston watched as Jonten swung his wooden sword expertly in a demonstration of what can be accomplished with practise. Sandston stared at his teacher as the wooden sword stopped moving and rested against the ground. Jonten then started the lesson.

''Okay Sandston, now try a few slashes. Up and down, left and right, and finally diagonal.''

Sandston copied what Jonten did until he was good at it. Watching and copying his friend's techniques, Sandston soon became quite good. Jonten then smiled and said, ''now that you have learned the moves, it is time to test them. If you get hurt, say so and I'll stop.''

Sandston got ready and held his sword tightly. A crowd gathered as teacher and student began their fight. Sandston ran in and immediately started slashing randomly, but Jonten dodged and replied, ''Sandston, remember what I taught you. Don't jump in so fast!''

Jonten gave Sandston a light tap on the back and said, ''that would have killed you. Let's try again Sandston; I know you'll get it this time.''

Jonten winked at the crowd as they fought again. This time, Sandston waited. Jonten ran up and swung upwards, but Sandston dodged, slicing down, heading for his teacher's neck. Jonten spun around and blocked the shot with his sword, sending splinters everywhere. The two stood up and rushed at each other. The wooden swords connected, cracking in equal length. Jonten pushed forward and questioned, ''see how hard it is being a warrior Sandston?''

Sandston smiled and answered, ''I am a wawwior mista Jon'en, an' yewa be muveeng!''

Jonten looked down and saw that indeed his was sliding backwards slowly. Sandston was pushing him backward! Jonten blinked and felt his feet leave the ground. Jonten fell backwards onto the earth and saw the crowd go silent. He jumped up and swung down to finish his student. Sandston threw up his sword and braced. Jonten's sword bounced off Sandston's, breaking the blade off. All he held was a handle and hilt. Sandston took this opportunity and stabbed forward. The tip poked Jonten's chest.

''Yewa ish dead mista Jon'en.'' Sandston replied. Jonten laughed and patted the Dubbin warrior on his head.

''Nice job Sandston. You are a fierce fighter. But if that sword hadn't broken, you'd have died a lot earlier.''

Sandston hugged Jonten and smiled.

''Thanka yewa fo da leshon, mista Jon'en.'' He replied.

''You're welcome…''

_Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong!_

Jonten was interrupted by the tolling of the two Redwall bells. All the crowd dispersed and headed inside the Abbey. Jonten put Sandston on his shoulders and bolted for the closest door.

Book Three: Battle on Peaceful Grounds

All the Abbeydwellers gathered in the Great Hall in front of the tapestry. Abbot Saxtin and Mother Terra stood at attention, and the crowd remained silent. Jonten stood beside Willow, holding her paw. Sandston sat on his shoulders as the abbot started to speak.

''Friends, visitors, all who inhabit Redwall; we are in a time of great evil. Our squirrel scouts have reported to me that a massive army is on its way toward our abbey. We assume they are looking for something…or someone.''

Willow looked over to Jonten, who was frozen in shock.

''We must not let these vermin take over our abbey,'' Mother Terra commanded, ''we must stand up for what we take for granted here; peace and friendship. All able-bodied Redwallers must report to the Infirmary, where they will be assigned weapons and positions. All others are to go to the cellars. All elders and Dubbins must be protected at all costs. Now move!''

In a mass of habits and dust, the room was empty. Willow, Jonten and Sandston remained. Willow looked over to Jonten and said, ''be careful. Don't do anything stupid.''

Jonten nodded and left. Sandston tried to follow, but Willow grabbed him and replied, ''sorry, you young rip, but you can't help.''

Sandston struggled to get free.

''But mista Jon'en, wa if 'e gefs 'urt?'' he asked.

Willow sniffled and answered, ''even you can't prevent that Sandston.''

Sandston stared at the picture of Martin and pleaded, ''mista Mar'in, pwease pwotect mi fwend mista Jon'en. 'e do'ent deserve getteen 'urt. Pwease Mar'in.''

Willow carried the Dubbin out of the Great Hall; all the while Sandston looked at the picture of Martin until the eye contact was broken by a wall.

Martin's flat eyes turned red. He was going to help.

In the Infirmary, Jonten was taking a small nap to help him be able to stay up during the night. While he slept, a light appeared inside his scabbard. Something was being engraved into the blade of the sword, and it was Martin's doing.

Suddenly, the watchmice ran through the Infirmary doors and yelled, ''They're coming!''

Jonten was up and running, along with the other defenders.

Outside, Fleshfang's army stood at the ready, all holding torches. Anklebite leaned over and asked his boss, ''why are they holding two torches?''

Fleshfang smiled.

''I learned it from the journals of Ferango the Assassin. By grouping up tightly and holding two torches, we seem a larger army than there should be. We can kill more enemies that way.''

''Brilliant sir, ''Anklebite replied, ''absolutely brilliant.''

Fleshfang put up his paw and pointed to the walls. Jonten walked up with sword and shield in paw. Beside him stood Mother Terra and a vast army of archers.

''Fleshfang the Murderer,'' Jonten thundered, ''attacking a peaceful abbey was always something you had said you'd do!''

Fleshfang recognised the warrior almost instantaneously.

''You,'' he yelled, ''the slave who escaped my ship!''

Jonten held up his blade.

''That's right, and now it's time to make sure my vengeance is complete! Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalll!''

All the archers began a flurry of arrows into the tightly-packed group of vermin. They dispersed, losing the image of a larger army.

''Nice try fox,'' Jonten yelled, ''but that trick's older than Lord Brocktree himself!''

Fleshfang growled and ordered, ''retreat! Retreat! Fall back you idiots!''

What was left of Fleshfang's army followed their leader out of range. All the archers cheered as they saw the final struck vermin die on the grass outside.

''Don't celebrate yet, mates,'' Jonten warned, ''Fleshfang doesn't give up that easy. He'll be back, mark my words he will.''

Jonten's words were right. In their camp, the remains of Fleshfang's massive army sat licking their wounds. Fleshfang himself was seating inside his tent with all his captains. He was not impressed.

''One third of our army was decimated, do you hear me,'' Fleshfang roared, ''all of those corpses out there aren't there because of the Redwallers. They are there because of your lack of leadership. You let them all run amuck as the arrows were raining down. What do you have to say for yourselves?''

None were brave or foolish enough to answer. Fleshfang smiled.

''Just as I figured. So that is why I have created a foolproof plan. Those Redwallers will be on edge because of our little attack last night. So, this is the perfect time for an ambush.''

All the Captains exchanged looked. One of the intermediate captains, a fox named Ridgeblade, asked, ''beggin' your pardon sir, but how can you ambush the abbey if'n they are all paranoid?''

Fleshfang chuckled.

''I'll get my wild card to do that part.''

A gasp was heard all around the tent.

''You mean…?'' Ridgeblade stammered. Fleshfang was about as serious as he could ever be. A demonic smile spread across his face.

''Yes, I mean him. Orloth the Obliterator. My wild card.''

Redwall slept anxiously that night. Jonten had volunteered to help the night watch. He knew Fleshfang would try something tonight, but being the genius that his enemy was, it was immensely difficult to predict his next move. Jonten paced all around the ramparts, checking on the guards and giving advice.

Fleshfang and his wild card watched from the bushes. Orloth was the quaint essential stealth soldier. He possessed a bag that held clothing and make-up, allowing him unlimited physical characteristic changes. He wore a black cloak give to him by his father, and wore a large dagger under the cloak. He spoke in a deep and sinister voice.

''Redwall abbey,'' he whispered, ''vere my fadder died. Dese Redwall vill pay for dere misdake.''

Fleshfang smiled.

''Yes, Shadow was a great spy. Too bad Cluny the Scourge had to lose the object Shadow paid his life to get.''

Orloth nodded and ran off, flattening himself against the abbey wall. Fleshfang turned and motioned for the captains to follow. They sneaked through the forest, making sure to not expose themselves. Finally, the horde arrived at the west gates. Fleshfang turned and hissed, ''this is our entry point. Now fall back out of sight.''

Orloth applied his make-up and put on his green-hooded habit. Flipping the hood over his face, Orloth walked up to the gate and replied, ''can you open the gate. I was locked out.''

The guards opened the large wooden gate and let Orloth into the abbey. He sat down on the grass, out of sight, and waited for the guards to disperse. When they did, Orloth was on the ramparts and opening the gate. Fleshfang and his army saw the gate opening and ran through. Jonten whirled around and saw his worst fears were confirmed. Fleshfang had tried something, but this time, he was inside the abbey. Taking command, Jonten yelled out, ''warn the abbey! Ring the bells! Reeedwaaaal!''

A few mice stayed behind with Jonten, waiting for reinforcements. The rest ran for the abbey. Vermin archers picked then off as they bolted across the grounds. One was almost at the doors, when an arrow took his life. He tripped and toppled across the grass. Finally, some mice got inside and got to the bell tower, ringing the two bells loudly. The abbey was awakened instantly. A flood of fighters ran out every door and into the fray, all lead by Aussa. Fire burned in her eyes as the shrew warrior ran headlong into the melee, yelling her war cry, ''Logalogalogalogalogalogalogalog!''

Swords, javelins, pikes and slings appeared above the mass of grappling animals, fighting for their lives. Jonten swung his blade boldly, taking out many vermin easily.

''Well, don't you idiots just stand there,'' Fleshfang yelled at his captains, ''attack that mouse!''

Grilltooth and the rest of the captains ran forward, leaving Anklebite behind. Jonten saw then coming and gave the signal to the archers on the ramparts. They notched arrows into their bows and launched a flurry of aimed shafts wizzing into the fray. Grilltooth was about to swing his sword, when an arrow sank into his head. He fell backward into the melee, dropping his sword as he collapsed. Ridgeblade took two arrows in the thigh, and one in the chest. He twirled to the right and fell face-first onto the blood-soaked ground. The rest of Fleshfang's attacking captains suffered a similar fate. Only Anklebite managed to hide.

Aussa sliced away nimbly with her rapier, not letting any get close enough. But before she could defend, a rat sliced deeply into her rapier arm, making her drop it.

''Aussa!'' Jonten yelled and slain her assailant.

Jonten continued to swing his blade, and went for a horizontal slash. He then saw what was engraved on the blade. _Ythgim eht netnoj_ was embedded into the metal, with to signs of scratches. Jonten continued to slice and finally got to Fleshfang. Growling, he ran into the abbey, with Jonten hot on his heals. Fleshfang was doing fine, until he tripped over an out-stretched leg. Jonten looked at the leg and said, ''Sandston! I thought you were supposed to be in the cellar!''

Sandston shook his head.

''Mista Mar'in tol' me t' come 'n' 'elp yew mista Jon'en.'' He replied courageous.

Fleshfang sat up and saw the tip of Jonten's blade come near his throat.

''Any final words slime?'' Jonten asked. Fleshfang smiled and grabbed Sandston, holding his sword near the Dubbin's throat.

''Yes, surrender to me or the mouse dies.''

Jonten growled and dropped his sword. Fleshfang smiled and kicked it across the room. He then ran off, still holding the blade to the Dubbin's throat. Jonten grabbed the sword and gripped both it and his shield tightly, giving chase.

Fleshfang was confused and had run up to the top of the bell tower by mistake. Jonten slowly walked up the spiral staircase, trapping his enemy up there. He appeared and saw that Fleshfang still clutched the Dubbin Sandston. He smiled evilly.

''So slave, how does it feel to be back where you started? To be helpless?''

Jonten barred his teeth and answered, ''my name is Jonten, you creep. And as long as I am still standing, I'll defeat you!''

Fleshfang laughed, dropping the Dubbin onto the tower floor. His head hit the ground and knocked him unconscious. Jonten swung his sword forward, but it was met by Fleshfang's. The two sliced randomly at each other, blocking their opponent's attacks and countering, only to be blocked themselves. Finally, one of the archers on the ground aimed up and caught Jonten in the sword arm. He dropped his blade and clutched the shoulder blade. Fleshfang smiled and exclaimed, ''I am Fleshfang the Murderer slave, and you are about to join my collection of corpses!''

From behind, Orloth the Obliterator drew his knife and got ready to stab. But for some reason, Sandston awoke from his black-out. But it seemed that someone else was using his body rather than Sandston himself. Jonten recognised the entity as if it were an old friend.

''Martin!'' he yelled. Sandston jumped forward, knowing Orloth down the stairs. He bounced down each rung, snapping his neck on the floor. His body sprawled on the stone floor, his knife laying in the limp paw. Fleshfang shrugged.

''I still can kill you slave, so it's not a total loss.''

But just as he was about to swing, something prevented him from doing it. Jonten felt an inner strength finally coming out as he grabbed the arrow and pulled it out of his shoulder without a flinch. Fleshfang stared at Jonten with horror in his eyes. Jonten picked up the sword and held it prone. Jonten smiled and said aloud, ''Fleshfang, I am the vengeance granter. I am the one through which all those you killed can transfer their strength. I was brought into this world to do one thing Fleshfang, and that is to slay you like the monster you are!''

Fleshfang laughed.

''A mouse beat _me_? Hilarious slave, simply hilarious.''

He swung down, but Jonten deflected the blow, countering with almost a paranormal power the likes of which no mortal could achieve. The sword sliced through Fleshfang's sword like butter, throwing the tip into the wall. Fleshfang was stunned and horrified. With nowhere to run, he had finally lost. Jonten got ready and yelled, ''I am Jonten the Mighty, hero of destiny! Netnoj the warrior!''

Jonten thrust his blade through Fleshfang's chest and sank into the wall behind. Fleshfang stared at the sword, and then Jonten. His eyes glazed over and his head fell limp, rolling to its left and resting against the shoulder. A few twitches followed, and when Jonten retrieved his sword, Fleshfang's body fell into a heap on the floor. Jonten sheathed his blade and grabbed the limp corpse of Fleshfang, holding it out the bell tower window. All the fighting ceased on the ground as Jonten roared, ''look at your leader now vermin!''

With a quick thrust, Jonten released the corpse and let it fall to the ground below. It twisted and twirled in its freefall like an acrobat. The remains of the army watched in astonishment as their once proud leader was partially imbedded into the dirt. Looking at one another, all the vermin who could still walk grabbed comrades and vacated the abbey. All who were still alive cheered in happiness, but then the horror hit them. Relatives, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters and friends of some lay scattered across the grounds. Jonten exited the bell tower and ran down the stairs to where Orloth had died. Near him sat Sandston, who looked up and asked, ''yew okay mista Jon'en?''

Jonten chuckled and placed the little Dubbin on his shoulders. Walking outside, Jonten was ambushed by Anklebite, out of sight from the rest of the defenders. Jonten struggled to break free, but his sword was pinned under his body, just as he was pinned under Anklebite's. The remaining fox captain held his scimitar at his enemy's throat, smiling insanely.

''You may have killed my boss and my friends,'' he replied maniacally, ''but I'll make sure you join them at Hellgates! Farewell Jonten the Mighty!''

''No' so fas' mista foxy.'' Sandston yelled. Anklebite looked at the small infant and smiled.

''Ooh, the poor widdle baby gonna beat me up,'' he mocked, ''try it short-stuff!''

Sandston grabbed Orloth's knife and waited for Anklebite to charge forward, scimitar drawn. Without any warning, Sandston dropped, kicking his leg out in a wide arc. Anklebite's leg was caught and he was sent flat onto the stone floor. Sandston jump up and waited for his enemy to do so as well. Ankelbite ran forward and thrust his sword downward toward the ground, but Sandston dodged the attack and watched as his opponent sank the sword deep into a crash between stones. Anklebite pulled, but his blade wouldn't come free. Sandston grabbed the hilt and pulled it back. Anklebite could only watch as his hilt of his own sword nailed him in the face, wobbling back and forth from the tension. He staggered back, holding his face. Sandston jumped onto the hilt and launched himself forward, sinking the knife into Anklebite's chest. Anklebite looked down and saw the handle of Orloth's knife sticking out of him. He spat out blood and collapsed. Sandston smiled and said, ''him dead mista Jon'en.''

Jonten sat on the ground and replied, ''Sandston, congratulations. You are now a real _wawwior_.''

Redwall Abbey returned to normal, and was able to have its Nameday feast. It was called the Summer of the Wawwiors. All those who died in the great battle were laid to rest under the grounds of their beloved abbey, all with tearful goodbyes and solemn speeches.

Pinegrove was released from the prisoner cart after the battles and became a member of the Abbey Guard. His neck has healed since.

Aussa, once her battle wounds were healed, joined the sisters of Redwall, becoming the first Guosim shrew to do so. Now the bonds between the Guosim and Redwall Abbey are stronger than ever.

Sandston had become a warrior, and the next to receive Martin the Warrior's sword once its holder returned to a grand story and a new son-in-law. He received Orloth's knife as a commemoration of his bravery and calmness during the battle with the assassin.

Willow married Jonten the Mighty, and soon they had kids of their own, who Jonten named Gilbert and Gaetan.

The little mousemaid looked up at the Abbot of Redwall and asked, ''what happened to mista Jon'en?''

Father Abbot smiled.

''Well, he settled into Redwall and lived a happy life defending his home alongside his bestest best friend Sandston.'' He answered. The moon shined its rays across the grounds. Father Abbot stood up and said to the little mousemaid, ''all right young'n, time to go to bed. Remember our deal?''

She nodded and ran off, yelling, ''thankee fo' da' stowy fatha Abbot!''

When the door to the abbey closed behind her, Father Abbot stared into the sky and smiled.

''Well, Father,'' a mature voice said, ''just like old times huh?''

Father Abbot turned and smiled at the adult warrior mouse.

''Yes Sandston, you look just like you did as a young rip.''

Sandston laughed.

''You aren't exactly as young as me anymore Father.'' He joked.

Father Abbot then replied, ''I guess then I'll have to give you my sword and shield.''

Sandston shook his head.

''No sir, you should take then to your grave with you.''

The two walked toward the door, laughing and reminiscing of seasons past. Finally, Sandston asked, ''so Father Abbot, why don't you ever let anyone call you by your full title?''

Father Abbot smiled.

''Because it has too many words to say at one time.''

Father Abbot then closed the door behind him. Sandston chuckled to himself and said, ''goodnight, mista Jonten.''

END

_And so, this ends my first, and probably only, Redwall novel I'll ever write. I wish to dedicate this to not only Brian Jacques (not, he's not dead) and baltohaterburner (who has been my Northern Star with dating issues.)_

_Disclaimer:_

_Redwall and all other trademarks are property of Brian Jacques and Red Fox Publishing Co. ©1996-2006_

_Jonten the Warrior, Fleshfang the Murder and all original content belong to me, silverbalto (suckers) © 2006_


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